


Signum Diabolicum (Sign of the Devil)

by Ghost_tiddies



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Sacrifice, Blood, Dubious Consent, Historical Witches, Horror, Hux is a Witch Hunter, I don't even know how to tag this, Kylo is a manipulative shit, M/M, Oral Sex, Witch AU, mention of murder, very dubious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6771784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_tiddies/pseuds/Ghost_tiddies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year 1652 Witches are a very real threat. The only people capable of dealing with the creatures are Witch Hunters. These people put their own lives at risk for the sake of rooting out the most vile creatures to grace God's Earth. Monsieur Hux is one of those Hunters. He has become well renowned, and has yet to fail a job. His past sins will soon come to haunt him, and he will face a creature that nothing could have prepared him for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signum Diabolicum (Sign of the Devil)

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this by @reserve's amazing Witch AU! I couldn't resist the excuse to do some serious research on the witch craze. 
> 
> co-plotted with @sugarsmashed!
> 
> Beta'd by @punkstationzero, but please offer constructive criticism and let me know if there are mistakes!
> 
> I should note that I go to very great extent to not use pronouns with Kylo, simply to create a sense of Hux's confusion.

_“Domine Iesu, dimitte nobis debita nostra, salva nos ab igne inferiori, perduc in caelum omnes animas, praesertim eas, quae misericordiae tuae maxime indigent. Amen._ ”

  
“Amen,” Brendol Hux murmured solemnly where he knelt on the cold dirt floor at the feet of the priest.  
  
“Rise, Monsieur Hux.” The priest murmured softly, and Hux got to his feet, a hand holding the rapier at his hip out of the way. He bowed his head in thanks.  
  
“Thank you, Father, for blessing me.” He said smoothly, watching the priest carefully.  
  
The elderly man looked as tired and as nervous as the rest of the townsfolk. He merely nodded and sighed quietly. “No, Monsieur, thank you. I cannot explain how terrible this has been for the people here.” He turned to snuff out the candles on the altar. Hux hummed and nodded, waiting for the Father to continue.  
  
“I would say it began two harvests ago. There had been small instances of a few livestock showing up dead in the fields, usually with their necks wrung. We found a witch after that and thought it was the end.  
  
In a freak accident the fields burned. We were left with nothing, and had to purchase all of our foodstuffs for the winter from travellers and nearby towns. Many perished that winter. If that had been the only incident, then we would not have been too concerned. The next harvest, we were plagued by locusts. They destroyed our crops. By that time, we had eaten all of our stores and were very poor. We thought that would be all, but the first time we purchased loaves of bread from the town to the south, three people lapsed into demonic rages. Monsieur, you must understand, we are desperate. We have condemned three witches in our town already. One is too many, but three? And we are still finding our sheep, cats, and dogs torn apart on our doorsteps nearly every morning. You _must_  help us.”  
  
The priest’s tone had been steadily getting more terrified and higher in pitch as he grasped Hux’s arm in a tight, pleading grip.  
  
Hux pursed his lips and looked down to the wrinkled hand grasping at him. He met the priest’s eyes with an impassive gaze and pried the man’s hand from his arm.  
  
“Father, I do suggest you regain your composure. It is unbecoming of a holy man to be so frightened about the doings of the Devil.” He said in a cold, mocking tone. The priest gave a soft gasp, eyes wide.  
  
“But- You do not understand-!” He stammered before Hux held up a gloved hand.  
  
“I understand perfectly, Father. I hunt witches for a living. I know what I am up against.” Hux narrowed his eyes before turning and striding to the door.  
  
“I suggest you keep your townsfolk in order. If all goes well, I shall have a few more witches to hang from your Elm tree.” With that, he opened the heavy door and left the tiny chapel, squinting in the fading daylight. Hux had much ground to cover if he intended to get any leads.  
  
He ached for the thrill of the hunt; chasing down witches was something he had become very good at from a young age. An outcast, seeking salvation for the sinful nature that had been cursed upon his soul, this was his only way to be redeemed in the eyes of God. Hux considered it luck that he was so adept at his chosen profession.  
  
Hux purchased what supplies he could from the general store before looking to the thick forest whose border the town rested on. The rumours he had heard alluded to mysterious goings-on in that forest, and he intended to root out the source. Often times, such rumours meant nothing, but Hux was not paid to dispel rumours. He was paid for the heads of witches he brought, and he intended to collect.  
  
A soft sound at his feet startled Hux from his thoughts and he looked down to see a small ginger cat looking up at him with big, green eyes. He curled his lip and nudged the cat with his boot.  
  
“Go on, shoo. Shoo!” He snapped at the cat, but she did not move, did not even break his gaze. Hux had never much liked cats. They were too crafty and wicked to be anything but bad luck. He huffed and stepped over the animal, who watched him go with eyes that knew too much. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. It was ludicrous. Even though he was a man of superstition, he did not believe that a mere animal could know more than how to eat, fuck, and lick itself. Humans were not much different, Hux supposed as he watched the cat amble off with a flick of her tail. He did not think much of the cat anymore, turning to take the path from the town and into the woods.  
  
The path was well worn, but had begun to get grown over by underbrush. Clearly, the townsfolk had become scared to travel too far as of late. Hux did not blame them. Dry twigs snapped beneath his feet, echoing eerily among the trees. The damage of the witches was terribly clear in the sickness of the trees; they were dry, barren of leaves, and brittle to the touch. Why destroy such nature was beyond Hux. The witches he had dealt with before held nothing against nature, and in fact revered it as part of their backward religion.  
  
The dying sunlight flickered through the branches above Hux’s head and he tugged his greatcoat closer about his neck, feeling the autumn chill. He intended to stay the night in the woods and see what he could find. It was common for rituals to be held at night, and they were the best place to capture the witches. Hux did not know other witch hunters who would wait literally in the witches’ territory, but it was a surefire way to find them.  
  
The overgrown path soon became clearer, melding with another, newer one from the south. Hux knelt to examine the dry path, sweeping a gloved hand to loosen the dirt a bit. His fingers caught on a small coin, which he pried from the ground and he turned it over, rubbing the dirt away with his thumb. It was an Commonwealth shilling, minted with the shield and harp, but someone had gouged a ragged line through the design. Hux pursed his lips and tucked the coin into his empty hip-pouch before rising back to his feet.  
  
The dark was creeping in and an owl hooted solemnly above him. Hux scowled but continued on his way. As the moon began to rise, something glimmered in his peripherals and he stopped in his tracks. He looked to the shining spot, which was on a tree about twenty yards off of the path. He narrowed his eyes and began to make his way to it, stepping over the thistles and underbrush.  
  
It was difficult to see in the dark, but the patch appeared wet, which was what caused it to shine. He placed his hand beneath it on the tree, scowling as he sniffed at it. The sharp, biting scent of copper made him recoil. Of course it was blood. He had not expected to be on the trail of a witch so soon. He believed he may possibly be on the trail of what could soon be a Witch  _sabbat_. The luck of coming across one was more than he could have hoped for, but there were still a few days before the full moon.  
  
Hux stepped away from the tree and began to kick broken twigs and shrubs out of the way to make room for a small fire. Once he had his kindling lit, he sat down and tugged an old, leather bound tome from his pack. Turning it over in his hands the gold inlaid title “ _Malleus Maleficarum_ ” glittered in the light of the fire. The worn leather whispered as he opened it, the parchment pages crackling as he tried to find what he was looking for.  
  
“Bodily lusts…The Obscene Kiss…devouring children,” He murmured to himself as he flicked through the pages, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he skimmed the sections. Nothing came up for defaced coins and blood on trees. He supposed it could just be a matter of coincidence and nothing to be concerned about. Hux closed the book with a soft sigh before slipping it back into his pack alongside his Bible and copy of the _Directorium Inquisitorum_.  
  
With his face turned to the warmth of the fire, he leaned back against a tree and closed his eyes, hands folded neatly over his stomach, rosary drawn from his pocket and caught between his fingers. He drifted to sleep after a time, the fire dwindling to no more than a faint glow.  
  
_The fire was hot. So hot it burned his face. Hux tried to look away but found he could not. He cried out weakly as it quickly became too much, his body beginning to twist and writhe. It was hard to breathe. Each breath burned in his chest and throat, lungs struggling and body convulsing._  
  
_“You are alone in this world; I am all you have. Blood, lust, thirst, hunger, fury. This is what you are. They hate you for it. I shall love you for it. I know your sins.” A bodiless voice whispered into his ear, making Hux’s boiling blood suddenly cold. The physical fire was gone, but something deep within him began to burn. Screams tore from Hux’s throat, but they sounded far away. So far…_  
  
Hux woke with a ragged gasp, leaning forward and panting, hand clutched over his heart. The forest was quiet and dark still, only his ragged panting breaking the silence. Hux quickly gathered himself, shaking his head before leaning back against the tree again. He was nearly relaxed when a quiet sound jerked him back up, only to be met with sharp, green eyes.  
  
The cat from the town stood across from the dwindling embers of the fire, watching him keenly, her tail flicking from side to side in amusement. Hux scowled darkly, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“So now you’re following me?” He asked grimly as the glittering, emerald eyes studying him with what he could only describe as intelligence. “Shoo! Get out of here!” He snapped, waving the hand that still clutched his rosary. The cat hissed, her hackles raising, but she did not leave. So much for a peaceful sleep. Hux sighed and leaned back again, closing his eyes to at least try and rest some more.  
  
He was just beginning to drift off when there was the whisper of a noise. A noise he could not place. It was like the wind, but there was no breeze that night. It chilled him to the bone, gooseflesh rising along his arms and the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up. He glanced about quickly, feeling his heart beat in his ears. The cat had left him, but Hux certainly did not feel alone. The snap of a twig far to his left had him on his feet and staring out into the darkness, breath caught in his throat.  
  
Moonlight filtered through the trees in thick banners, casting cold light in a patchwork of light and dark. Nothing moved for a few moments and Hux began to relax, letting out the breath he had been holding. He saw it then.  
  
Pale; practically glowing in the night, a slim figure cut it’s way between the patches of moonlight and darkness, seemingly unhindered by the uneven ground. Dark curls reached the figure’s mid-back, shimmering with each step. Hux’s voice died in his throat, his eyes burning as he stared too long, but he could not even bring himself to blink. It felt as if he were frozen to the spot, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare at the eerie, nude figure as it slowly made its’ way through the forest. It stopped suddenly, nearly parallel with Hux where he stood paralyzed. The figure turned it’s glimmering head and he was shocked to the core as he locked eyes with it. Utterly human in form, but the eyes were a fierce yellow, like an animal’s. It’s hands dripped with blood. The figure’s face was long and aquiline; a face one could only describe as angelic. It was tall, standing with it’s broad shoulders back, it’s head held high. Naked, it had the body of a male. Hux felt a shiver ripple down his back as the man’s full lip’s parted just slightly.

“I know your sins.” A whisper, no more than the wind, met Hux’s ear and he felt deathly-cold fingers close about his throat for a mere moment before the figure was gone; gone as quickly as it had appeared, no more than a vision.

Hux slowly sank to his knees, freed of the paralyzing grip. He brought his rosary up to his trembling lips.

“ _Salvum me, Spiritus Sanctum_.” He gasped out weakly, staring at the spot where the figure had vanished.

*

Hux did not rest that night, wholly unable to. He merely sat and stared at the soft glow of embers before him until the sunlight through the trees warmed his face. He tugged his water skin from his pack and splashed some on his face, gasping at the sharpness of the cold. It brought him from his daze well enough that he managed to centre himself. He shouldered his pack and looked towards where he had seen the figure earlier that night. Hux swallowed hard and steeled himself before picking his way through the bushes to stand where he was sure the figure must have. He glanced about, looking for a sign that someone had been there, but saw nothing. Not a bush out of place, not a twig that had been broken. Nothing. It was as if nothing had even happened. Hux was not sure if that gave him comfort or not.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He had a job to do. He looked south, the way that the figure had come from and supposed it was the closest to a lead he had. As he walked, his mind kept going back to whatever it had been that he had seen. A man, clearly, but too pale, too spirit-like. The piercing eyes and bloodied hands haunted him. It had to be witchcraft of some sort. There was no other explanation.

Witches worked by using base, animalistic desires such as lust, and it was clear to him that whatever horrible beast had cast the spell on him knew too much. Hux’s hands still shook slightly as he tugged out a silver cigarette case, taking out and lighting one with a match. If not simply for practicing witchcraft, whomever sent that phantom to him had to be found, for they knew too much.

Hux spent the rest of the day walking in a grid pattern, marking the trees he passed with a short hip knife. Much to his disappointment, he did not find anything of significance that day.

He camped that night by a small stream, building a warm fire before tugging his hair from the leather chord he kept it back with. Hux washed his dirty hair in the stream before combing it back with his fingers, scowling at the meagre meal of bread and dried meat he had warming by the fire. By no means was he fond of this lifestyle, but a sinner had to sacrifice luxury in order to repent. He ate, then slept, head resting on his pack with his greatcoat held close around his shoulders.

Hux was startled awake by the cry of a bird and he blinked into the night about him. He scowled and laid his head back down with a sigh. Light sleeping be damned. He was cold, colder than he was comfortable with, and it had nothing to do with the weather. A shiver rolled down his back, making him gasp weakly, eyes widening again. Someone was nearby. He had no idea how he knew that, but he could /feel/ it.

It felt as if fingers of mist were curling about his throat and tugging on his coat, but when Hux put his hand out, nothing was there. He shivered hard and sat up straight, tugging his coat closer around his shoulders for warmth that he could not find.

The whisper of a voice met his ears, causing his breath to still in his throat. It rose to a soft, silvery song with no words, singing clear through the night as if it came from a songbird. It was unsettling and grated on Hux’s nerves. He tried to get his feet under him, but found he could not move.

“ _Lay back, Brendol. Lay back and let me care for you_.” A voice breathed in his ear, deathly cold hands ghosting up his back. Hux was too hot and too cold at the same time, gasping as he was pushed back by those same hands. Instead of meeting cold, hard rock, he found himself pressed into the softness and warmth of new moss. Not a single noise could leave Hux’s mouth as he looked about in terror for whomever or whatever was holding him to the ground. There were hands on his chest, hands in his hair, on his face, all of them undressing him as he lay prone.

A figure slowly materialized above him, standing with legs spread and feet planted on either side of Hux’s hips. Hux’s eyes followed the long, pale body up to an aquiline face and burning eyes. The only difference from the night before was the lack of blood.

“Y-you!” He managed to gasp out, trying to struggle against the invisible hands that tugged open his shirt. The figure, for though it had the body of a man, he could not bring himself to think of it as a man, crouched down to look Hux in the eyes, head tipped to the side. Onyx curls spilled over a broad, ghostly shoulder, making Hux’s mouth go dry. The figure leaned close to him, cupping his face in a frighteningly long fingered hand.

“Yes, Monsieur Hux.” It’s plush lips barely moved as it’s deep, musical voice stole Hux’s breath. “I know what you are here for. I can bring you redemption.” It breathed and Hux’s eyes went impossibly wide.

“Are you an Angel? Are you an Angel of God?” He gasped out weakly, to which the creature offered a delicate smile, eyes glittering with mischief.  
“Of sorts, yes.” Those soft lips seemed ever so close and Hux felt the overwhelming urge to just lean a little closer, to taste what must be sweet breath. He did not have to guess as the figure leaned ever closer to him until cool lips were against his. Hux knew he should have felt disgust and rage, but the only thing that burned in his body was a thirst. It was sudden and it shocked him, especially as he lifted his hands to bury in those inky curls as he kissed the being above him hungrily.

“You have never allowed yourself to indulge, Hux.” The figure purred softly, having pulled away from the kiss. It’s lips were reddened and wet, curving into a smirk. Hux felt his cheeks heat up.

“Why does it matter?” He grumbled and those tempting lips ghosted along his jaw.

“No, I suppose it does not.” The figure lifted it’s head to look at Hux inquisitively. It smiled and traced a clawed finger down Hux’s bare chest, making him shiver in it’s wake. Hux grasped the thin wrist and stared into the yellow eyes that watched him intently.

“I don’t know your name.” He murmured softly, stilling completely as the being’s weight lowered to rest on his hips. The creature smiled slyly and rocked it’s hips over Hux’s hardening erection, to which he was surprised to even have.

“I go by many names, but you may call me Kylo.” The figure purred and leaned close to kiss him again, working it’s cold tongue into his mouth. Hux moaned around the intrusion, forgetting everything but the points of contact between him and the beautiful body above him.

Kylo’s cold hands ran down his sides, pinching, scratching, and teasing, but Hux’s own hands seemed unable to move from the silky tresses of the lusty figure that kissed him breathless. He could have sworn he felt sharp teeth in Kylo’s wicked mouth, but it barely registered. He was being consumed by a lust that burned his very being.

Hux groaned into that luscious mouth, clutching to Kylo as he lifted his hips for some relief. Those hands, those cold, unforgiving hands were between them suddenly, tugging at the fly of his trousers and tugging them down just enough that his cock sprang free.

He arched his back with a ragged groan as Kylo’s hand wrapped about his thick length, the other matching the sound with a pleased hum.

“A life of chastity is one of sorrow, Dear Hux. I do feel sorry for you.” Kylo purred as it peppered soft kisses down Hux’s bare sternum. “Oh, the things I will show you, the things I will teach you.” That damned voice seemed to be in Hux’s head all while Kylo’s mouth was busy kissing his trembling thighs. It did not seem possible, but before Hux could so much as think on the subject, Kylo had taken his hard length into that sinful mouth and was suckling as if it was what it was born to do.

Hux grasped at inky curls again, twisting a bit beneath that awful figure as lewd groans tumbled from his throat. A cool tongue against the underside, lapping at the slit, swollen lips stretching obscenely as the other took Hux impossibly deep. No amount of skill with hand and spit could have brought him this sort of sensation. When he came, it crashed over him like a wave, making him shout as his back bowed. Nails too sharp to belong to a human bit into his hips and drew blood.

Gasping for breath and blinking in a shocked haze, Hux felt those terribly cold lips touch his again before the weight above him disappeared and he himself sank into a black, cold sleep.

When Hux awoke, it was with a terrible start and a shout of surprise. He was drenched in sweat and it was already midmorning. He trembled from head to toe and scrambled to his feet to pat himself down. He was still clothed, he had been laying on his side exactly how he had gone to sleep. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He thought so, until his hands came to rest over his hips and he felt a sharp sting.

A cold sensation shot through Hux’s chest as he tugged down his trousers and lifted his shirt to see. They were faint, but there were four perfectly symmetrical scratches decorating his pale skin. Hux wanted to throw up as confusion flooded his mind. What was this? What was going on? Was he going mad?

*

Hux returned to the town before dusk, not wanting to spend another night in the woods after what had happened to him. He had no explanation for how the scratches got onto his hip, and he refused to even allow to think about his… dream. He told himself it had just been one of those awful dreams caused by a lack of proper sleep and fear of being alone in a dying forest. Any person in their right mind would have nightmares in that situation.

He did not speak to a single person he passed, but they did not so much as attempt speak to him, either.

Hux pushed open the heavy chapel door open, scowling when he saw his reflection in the polished silver mirror across from the door. He looked much paler than normal, his cheeks gaunt, and his eyes sunken and dull. He looked as awful as he felt.

“Father? Father, are you here?” Hux called out, surprised at how steady his tone was. The priest stepped from the back room, looking concerned.

“Ah! Monsieur Hux! How has the search been?” The priest asked, sounding so hopeful that Hux hesitated.  
“I…Have made progress.” It was not a lie, but he supposed the priest did not need to know of his nightmares. The last thing he wanted to do was possibly condemn himself. “I am back to pray and rid myself of any trace of the witches that may be on me.” Hux murmured, walking to the altar and kneeling, all but ignoring the priest now.

He closed his eyes and clasped his hands beneath his chin. Prayer did not come to his mind. It was not as if he did not know the words, it was just that they could not come together in the proper form. It was frustrating, but he kept at it, managing to string out some sort of sensical Latin beneath his breath. Despite the prayer, Hux did not feel as comforted as usual. He almost felt…dirty.

Hux let out a weak sigh and opened his eyes, looking up to the Crucifix on the wall above the altar. As soon as he locked eyes with the effigy of Christ, he felt the unmistakeable tug of fingers through his hair. It chilled him and he turned quickly, lashing his arm out against whoever was there. Panting in his sudden fear, Hux’s eyes jerked about the small and very empty nave. His harsh, fearful breaths were the only noise, reverberating off of the stone walls. The priest hurried out from the back room, looking concerned.

“Monsieur?”

Hux shook his head and swallowed a few times before he managed to get his voice to work. “Fine, Father. Everything is fine. I need to rest is all.” He said and the priest nodded, looking skeptical.

“You may take my sleeping mat behind the altar.” The priest said quietly before going back behind the door. Hux stood and tugged the ragged mat closer to where the Crucifix hung. He unbuckled his belt, laying his rapier and pistol beside the mat before laying down, greatcoat draped over him like a blanket. At least he supposed he was safest sleeping in the nave below Christ on the Cross.

Nearly the second he had closed his eyes Hux felt the heat of fire against his face and heard the crackle of burning wood. He kept his eyes tightly shut, waiting for the pain that had come the first time he dreamed of fire. It did not come. A cool hand touching his startled him and he opened his eyes, gasping as he was met by a pale, beautiful face and curious yellow eyes.

Kylo smiled sweetly at him and tipped it’s head to the side. “Dear Monsieur Hux, it is nice you came.” The double entendre did not pass Hux by. He sat himself up, ignoring Kylo to look about them. He was deep in the forest again, a small fire burning behind the nude figure crouching beside him.

A soft bleat startled Hux and he saw a small lamb tied immobile next to the flames. He could have sworn he saw terror in those big eyes.

“What are you doing? Why am I here?” Hux started, but Kylo hushed him with a delicate finger pressed to his lips. He moved close to kiss Hux softly, making the hunter close his eyes and give a soft moan as that agonizing lust clawed low in his belly again.

“I am helping you, Hux. Take the knife. Give me the heart of the lamb.” Kylo’s soft lips whispered against his as it pressed the hilt of a knife into his palm. Hux could only comply, the only thought in his mind was that of Kylo and acquiescing to this mysterious figure. It did not once cross his mind to ask why, or to deny Kylo.

The lamb bleated loudly and in fear as Hux neared with the knife, and he knew he should have felt /something/ about it, but he did not as he gripped the animal by it’s fragile neck and cut into it’s chest. The lamb did not so much as wriggle against his grip as he broke apart it’s ribs to cut free the still beating heart. Blood spilled over his pale hands as he lifted the little heart up and turned to Kylo, who was smiling oh-so-sweetly.

Kylo knelt by Hux and cupped his hands out for the organ, which Hux carefully settled into the bowl made by the other’s hands. The lamb lay twitching and bleeding beside them, dead.

“You did very well, Hux.” Kylo whispered, the deep voice reverberating through Hux’s body and mind, making his eyes flutter. He felt such strange things when Kylo was near, and his mind was unable to even begin to understand them. Kylo kissed him sweetly and softly, pulling away the second that Hux began to press back insistently.

Kylo maintained eye contact as it dropped that tiny heart into the fire, both of them listening to the flames hiss and crackle, the smell of burning blood and flesh filling the air. “ _Venite ad me, Eques. Incipiamus ab Sabba_ t” 

Kylo’s words were terrifying and chilling, even though Hux did not know what it was saying. He felt a terrible cold shiver run up his spine and his head whipped about. Black shapes were moving in the forest about them, steadily moving closer as they took on the form of humans.

“ _Cicatrix eum_." A melding of whispered voices met Hux’s ears and he looked back to Kylo, who cupped his face in bloodied hands, leaning close again.

“ _Tu autem in nobis unum_ ” Kylo whispered softly against Hux’s neck, softly kissing the underside of Hux’s jaw. He suddenly felt unable to breathe, choking as his vision faded away.

*

Hux sat up with a shout, surprised and confused to find himself in the chapel again. He trembled from head to toe and felt colder than death itself. As he raised his hands to his face he was stopped at the sight of blood. His hands were red with it. Red and dripping, still warm.

Hux shouted again and scrambled to his feet, greatcoat falling from his shoulders. Blood was splashed up his shirt and he could feel where it was dried on his cheeks. His breathing was ragged and panicked, glancing about the chapel with frightened eyes. He was alone.

He dashed for the door beside the reliquary, bursting outside and running to the well. With shaking hands, Hux brought up the bucket and dunked his bloodied hands in, scrubbing madly at them. He washed his face and tried to get the blood spatter from his shirt, unable to calm his breathing or his thudding heart.

It barely registered that it was morning now until Hux had scrubbed away the majority of the blood. He was so confused and terrified. He was questioning what was real and what was a dream now. Hux was brought from his thoughts by the sound of a woman screaming and he felt as if his blood itself had frozen in his veins.

Against every fibre of his being desperately telling him not to, but Hux had a duty to the people of the town, so he dashed back through the chapel, grabbing his weapons and greatcoat, taking care to cover the bloodstains on his shirt.

When he had hurried out into the town, he found a gathering of the folk, including the priest, at one of the smaller houses. The priest noticed him and turned, reaching a shaking hand to the hunter.

“Monsieur Hux,” He gasped out weakly as Hux gave his hand to the priest. “A child… Little Jacob Reed…” The priest could not put the words together, so Hux brushed past him, having a horrible feeling that he knew exactly what it was he was going to see past the small crowd.

Young Mrs Reed kneeled in her doorway, clutching the tiny, mangled, and bloodied body of her son, sobbing hysterically. Hux stared at the dead little boy, a muscle working in his jaw as he tried to swallow his fear. The child’s chest had been torn open, ribs snapped, a gaping hole where the boy’s heart was supposed to be. Hux felt terribly ill and he had to turn, slapping a hand over his mouth as he hurried off, the screeches and sobs of Mrs Reed following him every step.

Hux made it to the edge of the forest and he collapsed to his knees, retching and emptying his stomach. He shook hard, spitting before wiping at his mouth and sitting back on his heels to stare up at the morning sky. His ragged breaths felt as if they were tearing up his throat. What had he done? Had it not been just a terrible dream? Kylo was not real… It had only been a lamb, not a small child. Had Hux really done that? He had no answers. He shook his head and tried his best to calm his breathing. If anything was a certainty, Hux needed to find the damned witches. He needed to put an end to this.  
Pushing himself back up on to his feet, he grimaced and steadied himself on a tree as his stomach gave a few sickening turns. Using the trees for support until he felt better, Hux disappeared into the forest.

He walked with no direction, barely a thought in his mind other than the need to find out what was happening and kill the witches. He had no idea where he was going, and did not even so much as pay attention to the position of the sun in the sky as he walked for hours.

The sun sank below the line of the trees, casting everything in long, cold shadows. Hux kept his hand on his pistol, thumb resting over the hammer; ready to shoot at any moment, should the need arise.

Hux walked until he was exhausted, until he felt he could no longer see properly due to the dark and his lack of rest. The black trunks of the trees seemed to be melding into solid walls in the dark, feeling as if they were closing in on him and suffocating him. He twisted and turned to try and find his way, but it was in vain.

The flickering light of fire caught his attention and Hux turned towards it so quickly he nearly lost his balance. It looked to be a small campfire, and he was drawn to it like a moth. Stumbling over the uneven forest ground, Hux hurried towards the fire, unsure of his own desperation to get to it.

He reached the small fire and dropped to his knees, warming his hands above it. Relaxing back onto his heels, Hux looked about the small clearing where he had found the fire, looking for the person who made it. He was surprised to find he was utterly alone. He was not sure if that was a comfort to him. Despite that, Hux resigned himself to sitting back and taking a few shaky breaths to calm himself.

He put his hands up against his cheeks, surprised to find himself shaking quite so much. His mind wandered to that tiny boy, dead and torn open, being clutched to his mother’s chest. Had he really done that? Had it not been a dream? He could have sworn it was a lamb. Hux barely knew what was real anymore.

“Now what, pray tell, is a Witch Hunter doing here in the middle of the night?” Drawled an eerily deep and soothing voice somewhere behind Hux. He leapt to his feet, drawing his pistol and firing blindly as he turned.

He was shocked to find his body frozen in the turn, doused in deathly cold as if having been dropped into a frozen lake. His breathing became panicked as he struggled against the hold, only his eyes able to move about to try and find the speaker.

Out of the shadows before him, a tall, slim figure materialized, pale skin glimmering in the firelight.  
“I am so _very_  glad you came to join us, Monsieur Hux.” Purred that damned voice. Plush, pink lips formed the words as Kylo’s pretty face was outlined in the harsh, flickering light.

“Who is _us_ , and what have I come to join?” Hux spat, his fear overflowing into anger. What was this? Was this another dream? Was it real? If so, had his previous dreams even been such? He was so confused and angry. Kylo did not answer right away, moving closer to Hux holding out his palm. His long fingers parted, revealing the round lead bullet that Hux had shot. He smiled and looked at Hux from beneath his thick eyelashes, dropping the bullet into Hux’s breast pocket.

“You’ve done so well, Hux. So well. You’ve really helped me prepare the _sabbat_.” Those words made Hux feel as if his heart stopped. He had done _what_? Kylo continued, walking slowly around Hux like a predator. “The seed of man, the blood of an innocent. You brought me both, dear Hux.” He felt a thin finger run down his spine, feeling as if it were beneath his clothes. His mouth was so dry and he felt as if he could not so much as speak.

Those terrible hands slid up to cup the side of Hux’s face, thumb tracing beneath his jaw. “I’m glad to see my mark took.” Kylo purred in his ear, and no matter how badly he wanted to jerk his head away, Hux could not.

“I didn’t think you were real.” Hux managed to say, his voice no stronger than a whisper, much to his dismay. Kylo gave a cruel chuckle and Hux felt those wicked lips brush against his ear.

“Oh, but I am real, Hux. I am more real than anyone would like to admit.” Kylo purred, pulling back to admire Hux with those golden eyes, a dainty smirk playing at plump lips.

“What do you want with me?” Hux spat, trying so very hard to struggle against whatever force was keeping him still. Kylo chuckled softly again, the sound seeming to surround and fill Hux suffocatingly.

“I do believe I should be asking you the same thing. Although, now that I say that, I know very well what it is you want with me.” Kylo turned from Hux to look at him over it’s shoulder, that coy smirk still toying across the angelic face.

“I want your head!” Hux snarled, only making Kylo toss that pretty head back and let out a musical, full laugh. The sound was like that of bells, all too loud but mesmerizing. Hux felt his gaze get hazy; his world beginning to swim. He was grounded by cold hands on his face and sweet, delicate breath washing over his lips.

“You certainly do,” Kylo murmured and Hux lunged forward enough to catch that soft bottom lip between his teeth and he bit down until blood burst into his mouth. It was not human blood as he knew it, for the taste was sweet and heady, when it should have been sharp and coppery.

They both moaned into one another’s mouths, and Hux, suddenly free, grasped at the naked body before him. Every instinct screamed for him to shove Kylo away, to kill whatever it was, but he burned from within. Burning, like the flames of a wildfire, driven hotter, higher, with each passing second. Hux found himself practically devouring Kylo with violent, passionate kisses, licking his way through that mouth, tasting the cloying sweetness of lifeblood and the sting of sharp teeth.

His knees complained at the sharp shock of meeting the ground, but Hux paid no heed as he had his hands on a slim, pale, and pliant body, maneuvering it beneath him. Kylo’s long arms were wrapped about him, sharp nails digging into his scalp as they both let out lustful sounds.

Hands pawed, fingers tugged, and lips met in a frenzied dance as the two worked to shove Hux’s trousers down. Kylo wrapped a hand around the man’s already engorged cock, making Hux break the kiss to gasp raggedly.

“Yes,” Kylo panted wetly against his lips. “Give into your lust for me. You want me. You want my body. To fill me, to claim me. Do it. You want this.” The words were chanted like a desperate plea, and Hux found himself nodding and wanting it all. Kylo was right. He wanted this. He wanted so badly that it hurt. It burned like a fire deep in his soul.

Hux grabbed at Kylo’s slim hips, pushing until the other was laying with back facing Hux. Hux pulled Kylo up onto it’s knees and found himself leaning in close to bear his teeth down on the swell of that perfectly rounded ass.

Kylo gave a ragged, pleased sound, arching into the pain. “Yes! Yes! Oh, Hux, yes, do it. I know you want to-” The rambling was cut off by a gasp as Hux drew the flat of his tongue across Kylo’s pink and puckered hole.

Hux had never done something so lewd in his life, but he found himself adoring the way Kylo twitched and moaned like a wanton whore beneath him with each swipe of his tongue. He closed his lips about the ring of muscle and began to work his tongue past the resistance, tearing a sharp moan from Kylo. The other reached back and grabbed Hux’s long hair in a furiously tight grip, forcing him to lift his head. Hux growled in annoyance.

“Fuck me!” Kylo demanded, voice wrecked and desperate. Hux could not argue. He lifted his hand to wet his fingers and prepare the other, but Kylo gave a frustrated growl. “No need! No need, just fuck me already!” He snarled. Hux could only comply.

With one hand gripping the base of his cock, the other grabbed Kylo’s hip and guided the other. Hux’s surprise to find Kylo already slick and loosened was quickly lost as he was surrounded by blinding heat and agonizing pleasure. His head fell back as he snapped his hips forward, their cries mingling.

Hux did not treat Kylo as he had with the men he had before, not with any care or attention for the other, simply fucking mindlessly into the body beneath him, fuelled by the fire that seemed to burn beneath his very skin. Cries, broken and hoarse, tore from his throat as he snapped his hips with abandon, climax already rushing towards him.

“Yes! Yes, fill me! Give me your seed” Kylo cried, writhing against Hux’s cock with each forceful thrust forward. Hux’s breath caught in his chest and he bore down on the other with a silent scream as he came wave after wave, screwing his eyes shut and riding it through.

Hux came to himself after what felt like a hazy eternity, gasping raggedly and shuddering as he lay on his side now, Kylo already standing. Hux swallowed and rolled on to his back, tucking himself away and fixing his trousers. He felt as if he had woken from a nightmare. He would have believed that, too, if Kylo was not standing only a few feet away, Hux’s seed seeping from his body and trickling down his pale thighs. Hux’s mouth was terribly dry.  
  
“I do believe I have all I need now, dear Hux.” Kylo purred, sounding as normal as ever. The other came to stand by Hux, offering a hand to help him up. Hux allowed Kylo to help him to his feet and brush him down, smiling oh-so-sweetly. Hux could not even form words, His mind felt as if it were clouded by a heavy fog. He was exhausted and fucked-out. He stared at Kylo for a long moment, fingers idly running through the other’s long, dark curls.

Kylo had a look of near fondness as it leaned close to brush a whisper of a kiss to Hux’s lips. “Go, now. Go on back to that lovely little town. I will see you soon enough.” Kylo hummed and Hux nodded slowly, turning and walking stiffly away as if he had no control over his body. It felt as if his mind was slipping into sleep, the dark tendrils wrapping about his consciousness, welcoming him into the blissful comfort. He slipped away into the darkness.

*

Bright sunlight, the cheerful song of birds chirping in the trees. It was certainly his favourite way to wake up. Hux hummed softly and stretched luxuriously, not opening his eyes. He felt as if he had dreamed something during the night, but could not recall what.

He let out a long, relaxed breath, finding strange comfort in the thin straw mat beneath him. The chapel nave was quiet, aside from the birds outside. Warm sunlight streamed in from the window across from the altar, warming Hux’s face. He hummed again, pleased, and opened his eyes.

Almost in that very second, Hux was pulled to his feet by four rough hands grabbing him beneath the arms.

“What-?” He gasped in surprise as he looked between the two awfully furious countrymen who held him tight and began to drag him bodily from the chapel. The priest stood by the door, eyes as wide as dinner plates. He crossed himself before opening the door for the men to tow Hux through.

Hux squinted in the bright morning sun, and the cries meeting his confused senses.

“Witch!”

“Devil!”

“Damn you!”

“Sorcery!”

“Foul beast!”

Hux’s pulse increased as he blinked at the townsfolk gathered about the chapel, hissing as jeering at him. Someone, he could not see who, tossed the contents of their chamber pot at him, the foul refuse splashing up his coat. Hux cried out in disgust and tried to jump back, but the two farmers held fast as they began to drag him through the crowd.

“What the hell is going on?” Hux roared, absolutely furious now. He was not met with an answer, though he knew all too well what was happening. As he was dragged through the town, stumbling along with the farmers and dripping with filth, the crowd of townspeople followed, stabbing at him with tools and sticks, throwing rocks and rubbish, shouting obscenities and curses. He could hear young Mrs Reed shrieking through her tears specifically.

“My baby boy! You tore him apart! You _monster_!”

He was damned. A dead man walking, now. Hux could see they were approaching a small platform built beside a pile of kindling and the ashen, dead trunk of a tree rising from the pile. There was nothing to do to fight against it now. Hux knew what Witch trials were like in small towns.

He was shoved up the rough wooden stairs of the platform, one of the farmers grabbing the back of his neck and forcing him to stand hunched while the other wrapped a rough chord around his wrists. Someone threw a pewter cup of foul water at him and it bounced off of his head, drenching him further in a stench that Hux struggled not to retch at.

Almost without any effort, the farmer who had been holding him prone shoved Hux on to the pile of kindling, hand closing about his throat to keep him still, back pressed against the tree trunk. The other set to work securing Hux to the thin tree with that awfully rough rope. The priest stepped up beside the pyre, looking grim with his mouth pulled into a taught line.

“You are certain Monsieur Hux is the Witch?” He asked the farmers in a clipped tone. The one holding Hux shoved the ginger’s head to the side and pointed to the underside of his jaw.

“The mark of the Devil, Father. I ain’t mistaken.” The farmer grumbled as the other finished the knots. Hux felt awfully cold and distant, unable and unwilling to think about all of this.

The priest gave a soft gasp. “ _Signum Diabolicum_.” He confirmed and nodded. He turned his gaze to Hux, who did not meet it, still dazed.

“I trusted you. You are a foul creature. You will burn in hell for eternity.” He hissed, reaching over to pinch Hux’s arm. The priest nodded to the two farmers, who hurried off of the pyre, leaving just Hux and the Holy Man.

Distantly, through his haze of disbelief, Hux heard the sound of flint being struck and a torch catching fire. He swallowed hard and looked up to the beautifully clear, blue sky. Only a few small, whispy clouds marred the endless blue. He could hear the Father beginning to give him his last rites, although his tone suggested he did not quite care to be giving them. Hux did not blame him.

All of this seemed so ludicrous. Hux had been struggling for days now with the question of what was real and what was not. Who was to say this was even happening? A laugh bubbled up in his throat, and burst from him the second Hux looked down to see the torch be tossed amongst the dry twigs and weeds at his feet. His voice broke and cracked as he laughed at the cruelty of his fate. What even was this? Was he really to die here and now? After all he had done?

Flames burst around him, the dry kindling catching and quickly rising in temperature. Hux barely felt it as he continued to cackle like a madman, tears pricking his eyes from the smoke and rolling down his cheeks as he tugged against his bonds. All Hux could even hear was his own laughter as it rose to mad shrieks. The filth on his clothes kept them from catching as the flames rose to lick at his boots and coat, but it steadily became harder to breathe.

Amidst Hux’s shrieks, he heard a wordless humming that brought an icy cold shiver to his flame-hugged body. The tune was clear enough to be hummed right into his ears. Hux lowered his gaze and locked eyes with a pair of bright, animalistic yellow ones. Right in the middle of the crowd, Kylo stood, body and hair hidden beneath a black cloak. That irritating smirk graced the angular face.

Fury like never felt before rose in Hux and he writhed violently against his bindings, screeching even as the flames rose close enough to sting his face and burn his lips.

“Witch! That’s the Witch! Kylo, you bastard! That’s the Witch there!” The breath that Hux drew in brought an agonizing finger of flame into his mouth, scorching down his throat and tearing the air from his lungs. He choked on a scream of agony, his open mouth only allowing more flames to lick their way into his body.

That deep, buttery voice sounded in his mind again, infuriatingly mocking as it smothered his consciousness. “Oh, my dear Hux. I am something much worse.”

Hux managed a final, furious scream, tearing at his bindings, his burning body as he slowly collapsed into the pyre.

*

  
The darkness was cool. It was calm. It was nothingness. It was bliss. Redness, the shade of blood, spilled into the edges slowly. Slowly. Creeping in. Infecting. Spread like a disease. Surrounding a pale form in death, as it had in life. Bright yellow irises flickered where charming blue had been before.

A voice, distant, cold and deep. It called to him from the blood surrounding him. It filled him. It breathed life into him. It terrified him to the core:

“Well, well. What, pray tell, is a Witch Hunter doing here, of all places?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Domine Iesu, dimitte nobis debita nostra, salva nos ab igne inferiori, perduc in caelum omnes animas, praesertim eas, quae misericordiae tuae maxime indigent. Amen. - The Fatima prayer. A Catholic prayer asking for forgiveness of sins and protection from hell. (yeah, yeah, it's later than when this fic is set, but it worked so well)
> 
> Malleus Maleficarum - the Witch Hammer, or the Hammer of Witches. Written by Heinrich Kramer in 1486, it is a dissertation on the persecution of Witches (especially section III), and a discussion of magic, witchcraft, and the sorts of lives Witches lead. 
> 
> The Obscene Kiss - Described very carefully in Malleus Maleficarum, the Obscene Kiss was part of the ritual of a victim becoming a witch. It was described as the witch "kissing the Devil's anus". 
> 
> Directorium Inquisitorum - Written by Nicholas Eymerich as early as 1376, this book describes specifically what witchcraft is, and how to investigate suspected witches. 
> 
> Salvum me, Spiritus Sanctum. - Save me, Holy Spirit. 
> 
> Venite ad me, Eques. Incipiamus ab Sabbat - Come to me, my Knights. Let us begin the Sabbat
> 
> Cicatrix eum - Mark him
> 
> Tu autem in nobis unum - You are now one of us
> 
> Signum Diabolicum - Sign of the Devil. Considered to be where the Devil has kissed the victim, usually manifesting as a wart, or mole. This was often used to condemn suspected witches. 
> 
> It is important to note that the Devil was said to seduce women and men into becoming his servants by giving them sexual gratification. This especially applies to women, for people of the time believed women to be insatiable and extremely carnal.


End file.
